


Make the Climb

by ScottieIsImpatient



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Star Trek: AOS, Star Trek: Into Darkness, because scotty was there too, excuse my crappy writing, this is my first st fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22976236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScottieIsImpatient/pseuds/ScottieIsImpatient
Summary: "You're not making the climb."Scotty's viewpoint after Kirk sacrifices himself. Felt like he needed some recognition since he was down there the entire time.I can't write Scotty. Or any ST characters. Please excuse any and all OOC moments.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Make the Climb

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I recently got into Star Trek, and after binging through all three reboot movies, the entirety of TOS, and three of the original movies, i decided to write this.
> 
> Scotty's my fav. In case that wasn't obvious.  
> I didn't do him justice in this fic tho D: (he's surprisingly difficult to write)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy.  
> (If you can *cough*)

Scotty couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this useless. Hell, he wasn’t sure there _had_ been a time before now.

The ship gave a sharp lurch to the side just as Scotty unbuckled himself from the seat. He went flying, just barely managing to grab onto the edge of the control panel. A wrench went by his head.

_Core misaligned._

“Yeah, I bloody well know that!” Scotty snapped at the robotic voice, struggling to his feet. His nose still stung from the punch he’d taken, but that didn’t matter now.

Nothing mattered now.

“Captain!” He yelled, knowing full well it was useless. The captain had already made his way inside that godforsaken radiation-filled chamber.

_Core misaligned._

They were losing power, and fast. The ship was well beyond the point of return, and even if Scotty had the faintest idea of what to do, there was no one else down there with them.

“Engineering to bridge,” Scotty tried through the comms, but static was his only reply. He banged his fist against the table, gritting his teeth.

_Core misa-_

Scotty hadn’t prepared himself for the sudden heave the ship gave as the engines roared to life. He lost his balance once more, the right side of his face colliding with the armrest of the chair. Devices hummed and beeped and whirred all around; the ground shook like an earthquake.

Then with one last lurch, everything came to a halt.

The only sound was the gentle and familiar hum of the engines, the only movement the soft swaying of the Enterprise as it slowly regained altitude.

Legs shaking slightly, Scotty dragged himself back to his feet, a small smile on his face. _He did it._

And then his stomach dropped.

_Oh my god, he did it._

“Captain!” Scotty yelled without thinking, almost tripping over himself as he ran for the radiation chamber. “Captain Kirk! _Jim_!”

There was nothing. No response.

Scotty gritted his teeth. _Fuck. God fucking damnit._ His heart was racing. _What am I supposed to do?_

He tried the door, knowing full well it wouldn’t work.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a flash of movement. Scott practically pressed his face against the glass.

The captain was crawling his way back into the first compartment, just barely conscious. His face was deathly pale, save for flushed cheeks. He didn’t look like the James Kirk that Scotty knew, the one that had rescued him from a life of eternal bore. He looked like a ghost.

“Just-just hang on!” Scotty pleaded. “I’ll get Mr. Spock down here. Just… hang on.”

He wasn’t even sure Jim could hear him.

Scotty ran for the control panel faster than he’d run for anything in his life, immediately tapping into the bridge frequency. _Please work, please work._

There was a click.

_Aha!_

“E-Engineerin’ to bridge,” he breathed, “Mr. Spock.”

_“Mr. Scott.”_

Scotty’s mouth was dry, and his head spun. Still, he forced himself continue. “Sir, you’d better get down here.”

His eyes flickered over to the radiation chamber.

“Better hurry.”

The communication was cut off the moment the words were out of his mouth.

Scotty closed his eyes and nodded to himself. _Mr._ _Spock will know what to do,_ he thought. _He’ll know…_

If only he could convince himself that were true.

There came a small clatter from the chamber. Slowly, Scott made his way over and knelt down in front of the window, heart sinking as he could only watch his captain – his _friend_ – struggle to even move.

“Jim,” the engineer said softly, voice catching.

He felt empty. He felt… drained. Like all colour, all emotion, had been sucked away from the world. Everything was grey. He couldn’t even find the strength to feel anger. Not to Khan, not to himself, not anyone.

Hastened footsteps came from behind him, growing louder and louder.

_Spock,_ Scotty thought, using the wall to straighten himself up. He’d probably end up collapsing without it. _That was fast._

As Scott made his way over Spock, he noticed that the First Officer’s eyes, which were usually calm and focused, were now filled with dread and worry. The slightest bit of hope danced behind them, too, and it was that hope which rendered Scotty mute.

He shook his head, gaze dropping to the floor.

Spock ran past him, just a blur of blue and black in Scotty’s tearful vision

“Open it,” the First Officer ordered.

“The decontamination process is not complete: you’d flood the whole compartment,” Scotty responded, like a robot. He took a deep breath. “The door’s locked, sir.”

_Believe me, I tried._

He stayed his distance, letting Spock and the captain exchange their words. Scott wasn’t sure he could even find the strength to walk over there anyway. He was using all of it concentrating on staying upright.

_All systems failing,_ he thought dryly to himself.

Time seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time. It was as if everything were happening to someone else. Scotty was merely a stranger. A stranger looking on as final words were exchanged between Captain and First Officer.

No, from one friend to another.

Even from where he was standing, Scotty could tell the exact moment James Tiberius Kirk took his last breath. He didn’t _see_ it, per se. Rather, it was more of a feeling. The feeling that something had been ripped from him. Something was gone.

Scott’s breath hitched. The ground beneath him swayed. For a second, he was sure he would collapse.

Then Uhura came up beside him.

Uhura, who had rarely lost her cool in the entire time Scotty knew her. Uhura, who went face to face with the Klingons and didn’t even flinch. Uhura, who could probably take down an entire army without breaking a sweat.

Uhura broke too.

As she cried softly next to him, Scotty wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug.

She wasn’t the only one who lost her composure down in the engine room.

The yell caught Scotty by surprise, and at first, he couldn’t bring himself to believe that such a sound could emit from a man – er, Vulcan – as put-together as Officer Spock.

Yet there they were.

“Sir,” Scotty said, letting go of Uhura to wipe the tears from his eyes. He still felt numb all over, emotions either devoid or in multitudes, but Spock’s cry had somewhat snapped him back to reality. They still weren’t finished. Not yet. Not while the bastard who’d killed their captain was still running about.

Spock turned away from the radiation chamber, walking towards the pair with slow, calculated footsteps. The slightest of creases hid between his eyebrows, his eyes narrowed slightly. Scotty was hardly an expert on reading Vulcan “emotions”, but he had a pretty good idea.

Spock was angry.

“Spock,” Uhura whispered, stepping forward and bringing a hand to his face.

“Nyota,” the officer said softly in return, bringing his own hand up to meet hers. “I’m afraid we must be focusing on the matter at hand.”

“Of course,” she responded, just barely audible. Spock’s gaze shifted to Scott. “Lieutenant, I ask that you remain down here until the decontamination process is complete.”

Scotty tried to ignore how strained Spock’s tone was. “Aye, sir.”

“Once complete, please be sure the Captain gets to Medical.”

There was no mistaking the hesitation in Spock’s voice at the word “captain”. It was better than referring to him as “the body”, Scotty surmised.

“I will be sending Doctor McCoy, along with others, to aid you.”

_Doctor McCoy._ Probably one of Captain Kirk’s closest friends.

He’d have to know eventually, of course. And being chief surgeon meant he wouldn’t only know, but would also have to be involved with the whole post-mortem process that Scotty didn’t want to think about right now.

He cleared his throat. “And you, sir?”

Spock’s eyes could have drilled holes through a wall.

“I will see to that the man responsible pays for his actions.”

Without another word, the First Officer, now Captain, headed off towards the turbolift. Uhura moved to follow, then stopped herself midstep and turned around.

She was undecided, Scotty realized. He offered strained smile. “You go, too, lassie.”

Uhura opened her mouth to say something but closed it again, nodding instead. Scotty watched her go, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

The engine room felt vast and foreboding, being down there all by himself. He wanted to leave, to get back up onto the bridge, but he knew he couldn’t just tuck his tail and run. Jim would find that completely unacceptable.

As it happened, Scotty didn’t have to wait long. He was sitting in the same seat Jim had strapped him into when the two nurses from Medical arrived, a rather frantic Doctor McCoy trailing behind them. Scotty stood up to meet them, only to partially collapse under his shaking legs. McCoy ran for him and grabbed one of his arms.

“Scott, what the hell?” The doctor hissed, his eyes wide. “What happened? I got a message from Spock saying to meet you down here with a medkit and a bodybag. What…?”

He trailed off as fresh tears rolled down Scotty’s cheeks.

“Doctor McCoy,” one of the nurses called from across the room. “Over here.”

Scotty was eternally grateful to that nurse. He didn’t trust himself to speak, out of fear he’d just lose it.

He took a deep breath and wandered slowly over to the radiation chamber, knowing he’d have to help open the door. His legs still shook, but it was beginning to pass.

That is, until he caught a glimpse of his friend’s lifeless body.

Scotty hadn’t meant to look in that direction. He’d tried to keep his gaze solely on the keypad, his mind on one mission. He hadn’t _wanted_ to look in that direction, but something compelled him. Guilt, perhaps. The thought that being unable to manage one measly look would show disrespect for the man who had saved them all.

Jim’s radiant blue eyes, which had always been filled with curiosity and life, had become cold and icy instead. His skin was red and blotchy from the radiation, blisters on his hands and some creeping up his neck. He looked much too flushed to be dead.

Scotty’s chest tightened, the air around him becoming thin. He choked on his own breathing and launched himself into a coughing fit. The nurses looked at him, concerned, their hands on their damn hyposprays.

“’M fine,” Scotty tried to say, but it sounded more like a strangled sob.

He couldn’t do this any longer. He _couldn’t._ Quickly, he tapped in the code on the keypad, and the locks clicked open.

There. He’d gotten it over with.

Back to his chair.

Fortunately, his steadiness held. He fell into the chair with a loud _fwump._ For once, he was thankful for his blurred and teary vision as McCoy and the nurses hoisted the captain out of the radiation chamber.

_I’ll be needin’ a drink after this,_ Scotty thought, burying his face in his arms.

The moment Jim had darted for the radiation chamber, Scotty should’ve known. He should’ve _known_ what the captain was going to do. He should’ve stopped him.

And then he let himself get punched in the face like a fucking idiot.

“You sure you’re fine, Mr. Scott?” McCoy asked, shooting the engineer a worried glance. “You look pale.”

“Aye,” Scotty said softly. He didn’t lift his gaze from the wall of the turbolift, didn’t dare look down at the body bag that was lying on the stretcher.

After what seemed like hours but could not have been more than a few seconds, the doors slid open, revealing the sterile white medbay. Scotty had to admit, he wasn’t used to this amount of cleanliness. Being down in the gritty engine room for months on end, it was a bit of a surprise.

“Prep for post-death preparations,” McCoy ordered, his tone neutral. “Autopsy unnecessary, just get me the damn papers I need to sign. Grant, you better not be talking with that Orion woman on that communicator there.”

A young nurse who had been lingering in the corner quickly shoved his communicator in his pocket and scuttled away. Scotty watched the young lad go, simultaneously admiring Dr. McCoy’s ability to conduct himself with authority even while he was still in shock. He probably would’ve laughed, maybe even cracked a joke, had it not been for the circumstances.

As the doctors and nurses bustled around, shiny instruments in hand, Scotty began to wonder if he should really be there. He wasn’t a doctor; he barely had any knowledge of the field. The only reason he’d even followed McCoy up was because there had seemed to be no other option. Now, there were options. There were many of them. And most of them didn’t even require his attention down at engineering.

Suddenly, the room went silent. Even the most severely injured patients struggled into a sitting position, their eyes all trained on the body bag that stood in the very centre of the room.

_Couldn’t have picked a worse spot,_ Scotty thought.

Everyone held their breath as the bag was zipped open. Scotty noticed McCoy’s shoulders tense, his fists clenching. Dr. Marcus’ eyes were watery.

Shock covered McCoy’s face all over again. The doctor opened his mouth, as if to command another order, but nothing came out. Scotty hated the silence.

Finally, McCoy admitted a quiet defeat. He turned around and fell into his chair at his desk and held his head in his hands. Scotty watched him from the corner of his eye.

Suddenly, there was a trill, so quiet that very few picked up on the noise. Scotty was one of the few. McCoy glanced to the ball of fur that sat on his desk next to the vile of blood that had been tipped over, then leaped to his feet and grabbed his computer screen. Numbers and solutions all flashed across it. Scotty couldn’t understand a word, but whatever it was made McCoy’s face brighten. And it was the doctor’s next words which restored hope in Scotty.

“Get me a cryotube! _Now!_ ”


End file.
